


Luck's a Lady

by prowlish (valkyrie_fe)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gift Fic, Implied Relationships, M/M, Original Character(s), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrie_fe/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz is used to being on his own by now, but lately he keeps running into a strange group of bots...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck's a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> This is a (late) gift for Art's birthday. Also something based off an AU we devised starting in the first season of TFP. The timing of this is especially hilarious, with a canonical Smokescreen having aired in tonight's episode. But this is the Smokescreen we had in our AU all that time ago, so he's probably a bit more like his G1 counterpart. (I did just finish watching that TFP episode though, and good gosh he was a cutie. <3) All the OCs here belong to Art, except for Steelblaze, who is mine. :) (I hope I've done her fabulous characters justice. ;-;)
> 
> As always, times taken from here: http://hallsofiron.livejournal.com/4224.html

Just his luck, Jazz thought with a sigh. Of _course_ there couldn't be rumors of an energon deposit on a remote planet without the Decepticons having set up an operation In fact, it was probably a trap: the Decepticons themselves would spread rumors through independent and neutral channels, slowly, letting them take on lives of their own as the transmissions passed around, until the source was unknown and unworried about. Then, when any Autobots tried to come and establish a mining operation, they'd find themselves chin-deep in Decepticons. An easy way to pick off stragglers that hadn't answered Prime's call. Jazz had seen it before. It wasn't uncommon, but he'd hoped for an easier time of it this orn. He was sure the fact that he wasn't technically an Autobot anymore wouldn't stop the Decepticons from blasting him full of holes if they could.

Luckily, the Decepticons had no idea he was there. Jazz hadn't forgotten his training; they'd need someone like Soundwave to spot him while he was staying hidden, and they wouldn't waste those kinds of resources on a remote outpost.

Jazz reclined in his seat in one of the planet's famed gigantic trees and watched the two suns of this system set into the high treeline. Best wait for nightfall, then. More sentries to get snoozy around the deep hours of the night and less optics to see a small frame slip in. Times like this he was grateful for his own ingenuity – one bot infiltrating a Decepticon mine didn't seem like he'd be able to do (or steal) much, but Jazz had his tools. They wouldn't know what hit them.

With that thought, and a smile on his lips, Jazz settled down to doze right in the tree he'd been watching the meager paths from – no point in making his own self tired and tripping up in the coming mission – which is when he heard it. Voices. Jazz sat up again, frowning, and listening hard. Those didn't sound like many of the voices he'd heard from the Decepticon mine. (He'd easily decrypted their transmissions.) Two of them... arguing, it sounded like. If it wasn't the Decepticons, then who? This planet was mostly populated with plant-life and large, benevolent feathered creatures. Leaning over with a hand braced on the tree's trunk, he tracked the sound, hitting the magnification on his visor a few times. 

Finally, he was able to see two Cybertronian frames through the dense foliage. One bright orange, the other a combination of blue and white, and both sporting sweeping door wings. Praxians? Yes, the rest of their frames were classic Praxian as well. But what on Cybertron were they doing out _here_? He spotted no faction symbols so – 

Jazz snorted. So they were other independents, looking to pursue the same rumors as he. And given how they were blundering through the brush, following the signals from an energon tracker, they weren't aware of the Decepticons' presence. Hmm... if he had a few extra hands, he could get more out of this little trip. At the same time, he didn't feel like sharing. But he wasn't going to let them just walk up on the Decepticons, either. 

Well, there went part of his nap time. Jazz swung out of the branch and landed in the path, and wasn't very surprised to face the barrels of a couple of blasters. Chuckling softly, Jazz raised his hands. "Ain't here for nothin but to give ya some friendly advice," he said, easy grin on his face. 

"Friendly advice?" the brightly colored one said. "Wouldn't you have to be our friend first?"

Jazz laughed again. "Consider this the first step? Just hear me out, okay? You guys're the ones pointin the guns, after all." She continued to eye him suspiciously, never lowering her weapon. Well, this would be harder than he thought. After a moment, her companion spoke up.

"Ah, he does have a point, eh Gust?" he said. He wore a grin as well, though his aim on Jazz's chassis never wavered. "It won't hurt to hear what he has to say."

The other – Gust – scoffed. "It'd waste our time.” She never took her optics off Jazz. 

Jazz chortled. "That energon ain't goin anywhere, trust me," he said. "Decepticons won't let it." Gust frowned at him.

"What? Did they beat us to it?" the blue and white bot said. "We came here as soon as we—"

"–heard some rumors snaking through the outposts, right?" Jazz finished. 

"Well, yes. So what?"

"It's a trap."

Gust shook her head. "We don't have to listen to this, Smokescreen. He's either a Decepticon, or a neutral who's trying to throw us off-scent so he can keep the spoils to himself."

Ouch. Right on the money. Shrugging, Jazz replied, "Like I said, friendly advice. If I was gonna keep it for myself, I'd already be there and gone by now – I've been here for at least an orn."

"I don't believe you."

Tough crowd. "Of course you don't. But head a few hics north of here, _carefully_ , and you'll see I'm not lyin to you. There's a Decepticon mine there, plain and simple, and I'm sure you know how greedy they are about their mines. You'll never get in, and if you do and they think they've lost, they'll detonate the mine rather than lose it to someone else. Trust me."

"I can negotiate with Decepticons just fine, thanks. And like _I_ said, I don't trust you, but... we'll be careful. Or at least I will. This fool blunders everywhere he goes," Gust said, glancing sidelong at the bot she'd called Smokescreen. And why, Jazz wondered, was that such a familiar name? He hadn't known anyone named Smokescreen before the war or during it. 

Smokescreen looked offended. "I do not! Just because I'm not a spritely little racer..." 

Jazz didn't know either of them, but he got the feeling this Smokescreen wasn't as hurt as he portrayed. Shaking his head, he finally lowered his hands – slowly. He wasn't ready to find out if either of them had an itchy trigger finger. "Well, I did what I wanted," he replied. "I'll be on my way now. Not gonna wait for the 'Cons to come doin perimeter checks." 

"Wait!" Jazz paused, looking back into Gust's suspicious face. "What's your name? What are you doing out here?" 

Jazz grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased. "I'm out here doin the same thing you are. Just tryin to get enough energon to scrape by without sellin myself to the armies that destroyed Cybertron. Am I free to go?"

Gust and Smokescreen looked at each other, then lowered their weapons. "But why warn us?" Smokescreen asked. "You could eliminate some competition if you had let us walk right on the Decepticons." 

Jazz shrugged. "I don't play that game, mech," he said. "I may not be an Autobot, but I ain't fond of just sendin folks to the 'Cons. Besides... now ya owe me one," he added. 

Gust looked ready to reply to that, but Jazz had taken the opportunity with no weapons pointed at him to dart back into the foliage. There was a startled – even offended – cry, but by the time they went after him, he'd gotten back up into his favored tree, smiling rather smugly to himself. Well, that could have gone worse. They _seemed_ to listen to him, in any case.

As they continued, talking to each other in low tones, Jazz sighed happily and settled down for that nap. He was awoken a little later by those same voices, and despite himself, Jazz tuned his audios into what he could catch of the conversation.

"Smokescreen, I can trade with Decepticons, you know that."

"I know, but I think it's better to leave this one alone."

"And _I_ think it's better not to have wasted the fuel to get all the way out here! We should get _something_ out of this!"

A pause. "Did you ever hear back from DJ about the faint energon signal from that moon we passed?"

Gust sighed. "No. But we can figure it out when we get back to the ship. I _still_ think I could talk those Decepticons into trading with us."

"I know you could, but they looked a little more... _bored_ than Megatron's troops. They might decide shooting us is more fun than trading."

A huff. "We could take them." 

Smokescreen chuckled. "You and what army?"

"DJ can be a one-bot army if he focuses..."

They walked out of his range of hearing. Jazz smiled as he let his processors idle again. Mission accomplished.

By the morning he had a small store of energon and no bot tailing his ship. Not bad. Not bad at all.

He still wondered about the familiarity of the name "Smokescreen," as he piloted through space. 

 

–

 

For Smokescreen, it wasn't until he reached an outpost a little more into civilized space some time later that he learned the name of the bot who had dropped out of the trees and given them a warning. _Jazz_. The same Jazz who was once a high-ranking Autobot? It seemed more likely the more that he heard. He shook his head as he walked from the bar, sitting at the booth that Gust and DJ had claimed. 

"What's with the wise-cracking look?" DJ asked him.

Smokescreen shook his head and laughed. "You're going to love this." They gazed at him expectantly as he passed out the high grade he'd picked up at the bar. "Where's Steelblaze?"

Gust rolled her optics. "Who knows," she replied. "Probably cooking up some scheme with Cuda. Now what is it you're on about?"

Smokescreen chuckled again. "That bot? The one that dropped in our path a few decacycles ago on that jungle planet?" 

"What about him?"

"His name's Jazz."

The pair in front of him shared a look before staring back. "Jazz? Like – Jazz the Autobot? Former head of Special Ops?" DJ said.

"Apparently." Smokescreen took a sip off his energon. "According to my sources, he's not an Autobot anymore. No one really knows why, but he decided to run off and do his own thing."

Gust shrugged. "It's not that uncommon. I mean, does anyone even know what sector Prowl was known to be in last?"

Smokescreen looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know. I didn't ask about that."

"Yeah, well, we know how _reliable_ your sources have been," Gust said. "You should stop taking the word of every barkeep that'll chat you up." 

"Hey, I don't take the word of _every_ barkeep. I have very specific sources of information," Smokescreen said. DJ laughed at this.

"Oh, stop pouting. So what, we had a run in with the Jazz of fame, what about that are we supposed to love?" 

Smokescreen let out another chuckle. "Well, if what I hear is true, he spends a lot of his time on the outskirts of civilized space, hitting remote Decepticon mines and outposts for energon and supplies. Now, what he does after that, I don't know, but..."

"You're saying he got the better of us," Gust said flatly. She slapped DJ's arm when the white bot started laughing again. 

Smokescreen shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, he was pretty convincing in discouraging us off that mine..."

Gust scoffed. "He was pretty convincing to _you._ I _told you_ I would be able to negotiate with them like usual, but you were so starstruck you wouldn't listen. And I told you he just wanted to keep it all for himself," she added, pointing a finger at Smokescreen. He raised his hands in surrender.

"I've learned my lesson," he said. 

"You always say that," DJ and Gust chorused. Gust sighed and downed more of her energon. 

"Well," DJ said. "I don't know what you plan to do about it. It's not like we know where he is. I don't even know if we'd be able to track him..."

"Track who?" Steelblaze finally joined them, clutching her own glass as she slid in next to Smokescreen. 

"The mysterious warning-bot from Jungle Planet Paradise," DJ replied. Gust made an unamused sound at the nickname.

Steelblaze perked. "Oh! Perfect timing! I was going to tell you—"

"Where were you?" Gust interrupted. She peered around behind their booth. “And where's Cuda?”

"Cuda's recharging – but hey, you know how I found that one signal I couldn't place when we were on that jungle planet? And it wasn't like any of the Decepticons, so we thought it might be his?"

"Yes..."

"Well! Guess what popped up on my console before I got off the _Lady!_ " 

Gust stared at her, lowering her glass to the tabletop. "You're joking me."

"Nope! That's why I was stayed behind – I thought the computer might be glitching. But no, whoever left that signal back on that planet also left it here. Strongly. They might still here, actually." Steelblaze grinned and took a gulp from her own glass. 

Smokescreen and Gust shared another look. "Maybe we should stick around after all, hm?" Smokescreen said, grinning.

Gust gave him an ill-amused look, but she agreed. "We _do_ owe him one, after all.”

DJ chuckled into his energon. "I don't envy him." 

–

Jazz was admittedly less careful at these outposts; the point of stopping there was to relax a bit, wasn't it? He wasn't careless, of course, but he didn't keep as tight a lockdown on the signals he sometimes sent back and forth to his ship in little databursts. No need to be careless about any of his cargo, and plenty who stopped here made those frequent checks as well. All in all, he blended in pretty well.

Or so he thought.

His third orn into the room he'd rented for the megacycle seemed no different than the first two... until he stepped out of the room to physically check on his ship and pick up some energon from his storage. Sure, this station catered to several species, but their standard grade energon left much to be desired. The station bar's high grade was decent, but he had some better quality of that stored away in his ship as well. 

And when he stepped out, Jazz found himself face to face with none other than Smokescreen. Oh. "Fancy seein you here," he said, hands resting on his hips.

Smokescreen chuckled. "A little less lax when you're among civilians?"

Jazz leaned against the wall as his door shut automatically. "S'far as I'm concerned, I _am_ a civilian," he retorted. "You been trackin me? That's kinda sweet, but I don't need yer thanks."

"Oh, I know you don't." Smokescreen smiled sweetly. "You're really clever to fool me and – well, I guess you didn't really fool Gust, but since I thought up our operation I tend to get first choice." 

"Ooh, fearless leader," Jazz said. "Didn't fool ya, did I? I told you there was a Decepticon mine there."

"Yeah, but you made it seem like you were turning away from a failed mission. And then you what, snuck in under their noses and swiped a store of energon?"

"Aw, did I make it sound that way?" Jazz sent an innocent smile at Smokescreen. "Sorry, didn't feel like sharin that orn."

"Are there times you _do_ feel like sharing?"

He thought a moment. "Sometimes." Jazz narrowed his optics at the bot before him, thinking again about – but of course! "Smokescreen," he said. "I knew I knew that name. Made a name for yerself as a trader, haven't you? You woulda just traded all that energon for something that caught yer optic more, right?"

Smokescreen snorted. "Not all of it. You know how many bots I have to feed?"

Jazz shrugged. "Yer still better off than me. And no, I prefer travel this way."

"I bet." Smokescreen studied him for a moment. "If you missed the Autobots you'd have been able to get back with them long before now, right Jazz?"

That gave him a pause. How did – ? Well, not everyone at these outposts were blind or stupid, he supposed. Shaking his head, Jazz crossed his arms over his chassis. "Yeah, somethin like that." 

Smokescreen grinned, a victorious light in his optics. "So I was right to believe my sources."

Jazz frowned. "If by _sources_ you mean Swerve, he don't know how to keep his mouth shut about anythin. Hope you didn't share any information to get what you got."

The Praxian laughed. "That's my problem to deal with," he said, those doors on his back flicking once. "So why'd you jump ship with the Autobots? You were doing really well there, I hear."

Jazz pushed off the wall and started down the hallway. "That's kinda a personal question, don'tcha think?" 

He heard pede-falls following him; Smokescreen hummed thoughtfully. "Is it?" 

Jazz looked over his shoulder at him. "Yeah. It is. You should take me on a date first," he added with a grin, before once more heading to the hangar where his ship was docked once more.

Laughter behind him. "I'll do that!" Smokescreen called at his back.

– 

There was another surprise waiting for him when he got to his ship. It was open and he could hear voices... he hadn't requested any maintenance! Jogging forward, Jazz crawled through the hatch. "Hey, what the slag do you think you're-- "

And like that he was face to face with the other Praxian he'd encountered. Gust? Something like that. She smiled cheerily at him. "Oh, we owe you one, remember?" she said sweetly.

Jazz narrowed his optics, causing his visor to dim. "You ain't swipin things--"

"Oh no, of course not," another voice called from further in the ship. 

"Who's..."

"DJ," Gust said, not sounding worried. "He's just checking on a few things. We intend to make you an offer you won't be able to refuse."

Jazz frowned at her. "No wonder you're so cheerful."

Gust chuckled. "Well, you left us high and dry when we last met—"

"–y'all got a funny definition of high and dry," Jazz mumbled. 

"Well, warning us about the Decepticon base wasn't all in your good conscience, was it?" she asked, leaning back in the pilot's chair. 

"'Course it was," Jazz said, crossing his arms. 

Gust laughed. "And you got a pretty sweet deal out of it, too." 

Jazz shrugged. "What can I say, I'm good that way," he said. He leaned over, trying to peer in the back and see just what this 'DJ' was doing. "Wanna tell me what you're doin here? Or how you even got on board my ship? The locks were double-encrypted."

" _Were_ ," Gust said. "We have someone on board who's... good with computers."

"A hacker." Jazz could just barely spot white plating back there...

"Like you're not. This thing was the toughest I've seen her have to crack," Gust said, arching an optic ridge his way. "How do you think we even realized you were here?"

Jazz looked back at her. "What, you mean Swerve didn't go blabbin _that_ at ya too?"

Gust made a face. "I don't socialize with him." 

"Smart bot." He looked up as the bot from the back made his way to the cockpit. Which certainly made it a tight fit; Jazz's ship was meant to be piloted by one or two bots, and certainly not anyone of this DJ's size. Well, at least he knew how to rock a visor. That was _really_ meager reassurance. "You ready to tell me what yer all muckin about in here with?"

DJ grinned, his visor flashing. "This used to be a scout ship. You got some old busted cloaking equipment back there."

"Yeah, and?"

"And I can fix it, no problem."

"But it won't be just on your good conscience, will it?" Jazz said. Gust's laughter drew his gaze.

"Now you're getting the picture! All we propose is a fair trade. You share some of your full stores of energon from that mine, and you'll get the best maintenance money can't buy from my friend here." She gestured at DJ, who stooped so as not to bump his helm against the ceiling, but still looked quite pleased with himself.

Jazz put his hands on his hips. "Maybe I don't want that. How do I know you won't sabotage my ship? It's pretty well hidden already."Of course, the cloaking feature would work a whole lot better than the fancy code-writing he'd done, but...

DJ laughed. "Oh yeah, you did a number with it. But I actually know a thing or two about engineering – I can do it better _and_ fix the cloaking equipment nice and pretty so you don't have to worry about that tangled mess of code you've written into the subsystems." The white bot laughed, rubbing the side of his helm. "It's a wonder this old boat still runs."

"Love an' elbow-joint grease, mech,.” This made DJ laugh all the harder. Jazz frowned, turning the expression back on Gust. "Knew nothin good could come of this once I woke up to Smokescreen's lovely faceplates."

Gust laughed that impish laugh again. "Well, do you intend to take the offer, or not?"

Jazz frowned at the pair. "Buy me a drink first."

"You serious?" DJ said.

Jazz's frown melted into a grin. "This is my serious face."

The next few orns found him with new acquaintances and a ship that ran like new, even if it's cargo load was a little bit lighter. 

–

One chance meeting Jazz could accept. Even a second, catalyzed by their talented little hacker-bot, he could accept. But another backwater planet on complete accident? Really? 

Maybe Primus was trying to tell him something.

"You that smitten with me? Followin me all over the galaxy?" Jazz asked.

Smokescreen laughed from his spot on the ground. "Right into an abandoned energon mine to end up trapped in here? Don't you wish."

Snorting, Jazz turned away from the pile of rubble he'd been examining. It looked very precarious – Jazz didn't dare mess with it. "I don't believe in this kinda chance, mech."

All Smokescreen could do was shrug. "Maybe we have the same taste in rumors." 

"Ha. Funny." Jazz sat on a broken rock next to Smokescreen. "What are the chances?"

Smokescreen grinned. "I'm good with chances. I wouldn't worry about it – I'd rather be stuck down here with you than some poor left behind Decepticon." 

"They _did_ pick up and leave in a hurry," Jazz said, kicking a small rock. 

"Yeah, and left a booby trap in their wake. Falling down on your skills?" 

Jazz frowned over at Smokescreen. "That would be _your_ fault. You're the one who went bargin in. Didn' I already tell you once you need to be careful about comin 'round these places, or do you need to be told every time?"

Laughing, Smokescreen leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "What can I say? I was excited." 

The visored bot shook his head. "You act like a youngling. You sure you're leader material?" 

"It's worked out so far, hasn't it?" Smokescreen replied, grinning. 

"I dunno, depends on what yer crew says."

"Well... you might want to wait on a better day to poll them on that," the Praxian said. Jazz laughed at that, and Smokescreen joined in. 

"I assume we're waitin on said crew to bust us outta here?" Jazz said. "Don't wanna collapse this place on our heads."

"Yeah. They'll figure it out. DJ's good with stuff like that," Smokescreen replied, waving a hand. "Now we just get to pass the time!"

"Oh, is that all?" Jazz laughed.

Smokescreen grinned. "We could play cards."

"Nope," was the immediate response. "Ain't that dumb. I learned my lesson back at the outpost."

Sighing, Smokescreen let his shoulders slump. "None of you are any fun."

"If you didn't cheat--"

"I didn't! If anybot cheated, it was you." 

"Oh sure, blame the innocent one you suckered into a game in the first place," Jazz snorted.

Smokescreen smiled, almost sheepish. "Well, we could just chat it up, I suppose." 

Jazz grinned. "Yer good at that, too."

"So are you," Smokescreen shot back. They shared another short laugh. "We should bump into each other more often."

"Well, yer company ain't so bad either," Jazz said, visor glowing.

"Wonder how good my company would have to be for you to tell me what made you depart from the Autobot army," the Praxian mused. 

Jazz paused, then shook his head again. "Told ya you'd have to take me on a date, didn't I?"

"Oh, none of our adventures on the outpost counted as a date?"

Jazz grinned. "As I recall, I had one drink bought for me by DJ, one by Gust, and one by Steelblaze. All in a big night out together. Don't sound like a date to me, mech." 

Smokescreen sighed. "Wow, how high maintenance." 

Chortling, Jazz shifted in his seat. Even to a metal behind, a broken rock wasn't the softest of seats. "Yeah, yeah. When you expectin our marvelous rescue to take place?" 

"Hm..." Smokescreen looked overly thoughtful. Jazz almost started laughing again. "Maybe a breem and a half." 

"Oh?" Jazz snorted. "That soon? By what calculation?"

"My good luck." 

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see how good that luck is."

"Indeed we shall!" And, true to Smokescreen's prediction, after a breem and a half the distinct sound of digging and measured blasting met their audios. Smokescreen sent a smug look Jazz's way. "What did I tell you?"

Jazz just stared at him, momentarily speechless. "You found some way to cheat at that, didn't you?" he accused. "You were in contact with them."

"Oh, such doubts!" Smokescreen raised a hand to his front, over his spark. "You wound me!" 

Jazz rolled his optics, making his visor flicker. "Sure. Now really, what--"

Smokescreen laughed. "My luck's a lady," he said, tipping a wink at Jazz. Not two kliks after he said it did a path pointedly away from the unstable cave-in open up, revealing Gust and DJ.

"What are you doing, sitting around on your afts?" Gust demanded. "Let's get the slag out of here. I'm dusty and tired and _you_ ," she pointed at Smokescreen, "need to learn to answer your fragging comm."

Jazz smirked knowingly. "Your luck is a lady indeed," he said. Smokescreen just laughed.

–

Five other encounters later and Jazz was done acting surprised. Whether they really were of a like mind or Smokescreen was tracking him down at times, Jazz didn't care. It seemed like all he'd have to do is stop and turn, and there would be Smokescreen, or one of his crew. Convenient, that. He was starting to get used to them.

Even more convenient was their trade of comm. frequencies. For those times when they couldn't bump into each other on accident, naturally. 

Considering he now responded to a rather urgent call, it was useful indeed. Apparently the younger of the crew, Cuda and Steelblaze, had gotten themselves in trouble. Smokescreen said he needed a stealthy, delicate touch to recover the two. And Jazz, of course, was trained for such. Had they really come to rely on each other? Curious. But he'd been the one who called for their backup last time, so now he owed them. 

He smiled. Before long, he'd become a permanent fixture. And here he'd thought he'd never consider himself part of any team again.

Ah, how the times changed. He was actually quite fond of them. 

–

Even if Smokescreen hadn't had previous thought about it, he would have invited Jazz back to the _Lady Luck_ following that gruelling mission. If anyone deserved it, it was him. And so there they were, in the modest rec room of his beloved ship, sharing drinks. Well, he, Jazz, and Gust were. DJ was helping patch up Cuda and Steelblaze – who no doubt were bursting at the seams to join.

"You know, you're not too bad to have around," Gust said. 

Jazz stared over at her before grinning. "High praise," he said, nodding his head. "I owed you one, didn't I?"

Gust smirked. "Yes. You did." She toasted her glass to him and then stood, draining it. "I'm going to go check on DJ. You know how easily he falls for Cuda's turbopup look." She shook her head and slipped from the room. 

"Well enough," Smokescreen said, swirling his glass around. "I wanted to ask you something anyway." Gust probably knew that, too – she'd given a backhand agreement just then. 

Jazz tilted his head. "Oh? What's that?"

Setting his glass down again, Smokescreen tapped a finger on the tabletop. "It's useful contacting you and getting your help once and a while, but it'd be even more useful if you were even easier to reach. We've still got plenty of room on board. What do you say?"

Jazz looked thoughtful for a moment before a slow grin overtook his features. "Mech, I thought you'd never ask," he teased.

Chuckling, Smokescreen picked his glass up again. Jazz lifted his own, and they clinked together. "Well that's one thing taken care of."

Jazz laughed. "What's the other?"

Instead of answering, Smokescreen stood and walked over behind the bar, resting his glass on the counter. He flipped a couple of switches and the lights dimmed. A moment later, soft music began to play. Smokescreen looked up to see a little smirk on Jazz's face; he knew he wasn't keeping his own grin at bay, either. Circling back around to where the other bot sat, Smokescreen held out a hand. "This enough like a date to you, high maintenence bot?" 

Jazz grinned and took Smokescreen's hand. "Works for me, fearless leader," he replied. 

They were content to dance the night away.


End file.
